I'd like to dedicate this one to RJG Lover, who requested a sequel to 'The Stuffy Professor and the Quidditch Star'. [It took longer than I thought it would, but don't say I never followed through on my word. :)]

Another reviewer on AO3 also unleashed a plot bunny: a prequel story. Unfortunately it would be a full length story, and even if I start right away it might be a while before it's complete. Such is life *sigh*. It has come to my attention that, while there are several full length USUK yaoi Potertalia, there are no hetro versions of these. Challenge accepted.

I will put up a poll on my profile, so please vote. I still plan to write it at some point in the future, heaven help me, but your responses will help me prioritize. I've discovered I tend to write in bursts, and I've hit one. Please let me know so I can strike while the iron's hot! :)

Enjoy!

Emma shuffled out onto the main courtyard, squinting up at the noon sun. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, and heaved a sigh of weary relief. It had cost blood sweat and tears, but she'd done it. N.E.W.T.'s were done, the term was over. She could return to Belgium for the summer, and relax.

She leaned against one of the pillars, closing her eyes and turning her face up to the warm sun. A minute later she heard Mai say, "You might want to open your eyes."

"Why?"

"Because she's here."

At that, Emma's eyes flew open. Sure enough, more students were starting to gather around the courtyard as the famed Quidditch Keeper walked the perimeter, dropping vividly orange cones every few meters, a piece of chalk trailing her to draw a line along the cones path. Once she'd made a large rectangle, she turned to scan the gathering crowd, a wide smile on her face.

It had been several weeks since Amelia had moved to Hogsmead, but no one had really seen her at Hogwarts. She would practice at the Quidditch arena during class times, and if you were willing to sneak off to the nearby village you might see her, but for the time being she was keeping a low profile. The one person who'd dared to ask Professor Kirkland about it had gotten his house a ten point reduction and a sharp order to mind his own business. That said, if you did chance to run into Amelia, Emma had found the woman was just as bright and cheerful as she was around reporters and at public appearances. As far as she could tell, Amelia didn't have a grumpy bone in her body. The one time she'd gotten mobbed coming to bring her husband his forgotten lunch, she'd handled it quite well, laughing and answering questions and signing the various sheets of paper and Quidditch balls thrust into her hands. She'd even told Professor Kirkland to lighten up when he appeared, wand glowing and eyes blazing with annoyed outrage.

Today, though, everyone was still a bit dazed from the N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s. They only stared, even the Ravenclaws baffled by this odd setup. Amelia herself was still in muggle gear, ragged jean cut off's, a simple t-shirt that read 'Pain Is Fear Leaving The Body', and sneakers. What looked like a muggle sports whistle hung around her neck.

She strode back over to the pillar where a mesh bag sat, and pulled out a oval-shaped ball with the ends tapered to points. It looked brown, worn, and vaguely familiar. Emma recognized it from muggle studies. It was a sports ball, very popular, especially in America. What was it...

"Show of hands!" Amelia called, striding back to the middle of the courtyard. "Who's completely wiped?"

There was a general mutter, only a few hands lifting uncertainly.

"Oh good grief. Let's try it this way." She cleared her throat, and in a perfect mimic of her husbands own accent, she called, "Who's absolutely knackered?"

That got a more enthusiastic mutter, along with almost every hand in the air.

Amelia grinned. Switching back to her own accent, she said, "That's better. You all have worked hard, you need a break. Ya'll need some fun. Who wants to play a little game, blow off some steam before it's time to pack up?"

Another general mutter of agreement and a good number of hands.

Tossing the ball in her hands, she said, "This here's what we call a football. Over here I think it's rugby, but back home it's football. Don't worry, we're going to play a nicer version of it. Flag football. Who's game? Everyone, come on down."

Gradually, a good number of students trickled into the courtyard, though many still stood back, watching intently. Most of those who had come out were on Quidditch teams, eager to do something besides sit around and study for a change. Besides, none of them were about to pass up the chance to play a game coached by Amelia Jones.

"Alright, good numbers. We're not going to do this by house or anything, ya hear? It's going to be red team vs. blue team." She sidestepped, then pointed across the courtyard. "Teams will be selected at random. Separate at this point. Step to one side or the other, there ya go."

Emma watched intently as Amelia marched up the length of parted students, doing a quick headcount. She had to demand a few volunteers change sides when the numbers came out lopsided, but it didn't take much to get them arranged to her satisfaction. That done, she took out her wand, a wide grin on her face.

While Emma didn't hear what the spell was, she had no idea what sort of enchantment would make a strip of cloth appear around each student's waist. One team was marked with blue, the other with red. Amelia, satisfied, returned her wand to her belt.

"There. Now football is a less brutal form of rugby. Flag football means no one's getting tackled. Normally I would encourage it, but since we're playing on cobblestones I'm bound to get some complaints down the road. The rules are simple." By now Amelia was pacing up and down the length of her makeshift field, still tossing the football as she lectured the intrigued students. "Blue team, you need to keep this ball out of the hands of the red team and get it through the center cones on this end of the field. Red team, you need to make sure the blue team never gets a finger on this ball, and get it through the center cones on that end. Sadly you will not be allowed to tackle each other with all that pent up brutality I'm sure everyone has accumulated in this last few weeks. You will have to satisfy yourselves with blocking and snatching flags. You lose your flag, you're out. You tackle someone, you're out. You cast a spell, you're out. You flip off the ref, you're out. Sounds simple enough, right?"

Emma glanced over at Mai. "Maybe we should have joined them. This sounds like fun."

Her friend was frowning at the courtyard as the two teams maneuvered so they were all on either side of the midline, Amelia standing in the middle with the ball. "I thought football was more complex. There are positions, with names, and more rules."

"I think the idea is to have fun and blow off steam. It's a free-for-all." Emma propped her chin on her hand, watching as their local Quidditch star threw the ball into the air with a shout of, "Go!"

"If it gets boring, can we go to our house? I need to pack, and so do you," Mai said firmly.

"In a minute. Oh, did you see that? Those two ran right into each other," crowed Emma, laughing.

Quidditch players or no, it seemed the volunteers weren't used to playing on foot with no brooms or magic. There were several goofs, along with a brutal battle for the ball. Two minutes into the game neither team had scored, but there were five lost red flags, four lost red flags, two broken noses, a possibly broken arm, and a black eye. Emma hadn't had this much fun watching a sport since the last Slytherin/Gryffindor grudge match. The only thing it lacked was a good commentator.

Finally, after three very long minutes, one of the blue team crawled across the chalk line between the two middle cones, ball in hand. The red team groaned, the blue team cheered, and the spectator's did both at twice the volume. Emma, who'd decided to root for the red team out of habit, did the former. Still, as she was taking an inventory of who was still active on her selected team, she did notice something. The blue team was still celebrating as they reformed on either side of the field, which wasn't that unusual. What was unusual was to see a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff high fiving each other, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor doing the same. She even saw one overly exited Hufflepuff throw her arms around a startled but not displeased Slytherin.

Was this what she wanted? Emma wondered as the second round got underway. Emboldened by their loss, the red team drove hard, quickly reclaiming the ball and making a push for the blue team's goal. We've made improvements, but there's still that barrier. It'll always be there, I think, but it's nice to know it won't always get in the way.

How long this went on, Emma had no idea, and she didn't care. She was quite sure everyone else had a similar opinion. In the end, it was three to four in the red team's favor. The red team had made it their mission to swipe as many blue flags as possible, and now only four of them remained to duke it out with the eleven people on the red team.

They were just short of wrestling on the cobbles over the football when the professors started to emerge from the main buildings. Emma didn't even notice them until Mai started pulling on her arm, trying to drag her away from the ledge. The Belgian tried to push her friend away, but the other girl pointed across the courtyard. Reluctantly, Emma looked.

Several professors were trying to disperse the mass of gathered and cheering students. One in particular stood out, a very displeased Professor Kirkland striding across part of the field to reach Amelia. She had a whistle between her teeth, directing the red team to back off and hand over the ball as penalty for a foul. She didn't even notice her husband until he was right next to her.

By then enough of the students had noticed the adult presence, and were quickly if reluctantly dispersing. It meant Emma could hear it quite easily when Professor Kirkland demanded, "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? I thought you avoided this place, and now I find you in the thick of a sodding riot?"

Amelia propped her hands on her hips, apparently not fazed by Professor Kirkland. Considering he was obviously in full on outrage mode, and even a displeased frown was known to send students scurrying, this was no small feat. At least not in the student's eyes. Those who hadn't already fled were now watching in rapt fascination. Yes it was well known by now just to whom Professor Kirkland was married, but Amelia had been keeping her head down in Hogsmead for the most part. Few had ever actually seen her. No one, save for Emma and Mai and a handful of others, had ever seen them together.

"It's not a riot, Artie, it's football. Flag football, no tackling. Compared to rugby it's pretty tame."

"I don't care if you had them playing hopscotch, just what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking they needed a break. Come on, don't tell me you don't remember what it was like. My brain felt fried by the time it was time to go pack. I was itching to do something, blow off steam. You can't make a bunch of teenagers study their butts off, sit for hours on end to take the stupid tests, and then expect them to be fine and dandy. They had fun, and they didn't do any property damage in the process."

Emma was a little ways away, but even she could see the look of highly annoyed exasperation on Professor Kirkland's face. Considering she'd seen him take away fifty house points, assign three hours worth of extra homework, and deliver a spectacularly painful lecture on the importance of manners with a far more pleasant look on his face, she was a little worried. Despite this, though, when he did speak his voice only indicated barely restrained anger. He might not be yelling, but he was very close to it.

"I understand that much. Perhaps you should have done it on the grass somewhere so that one wouldn't have broken his arm, but otherwise it wasn't a totally horrid idea. What I meant, Amelia, is what were you thinking doing this in your condition? Look at this lot, they're over enthusiastic on the best of days. The nurses will have a handful when they all get there. All it takes is being at the wrong place at the wrong time, never mind stray spells."

"I made a no magic rule. If they used it they were out. And I only stayed close enough to play ref, Artie. I'm fine, really, look at me. Besides, it was fine. I think I'll try it again next year."

"You got lucky," Professor Kirkland bit out. "I thought we agreed you would play it safe for a time. At least until...after."

Amelia folded her arms. "Just because there's a bun in the oven doesn't mean I can't have a little fun. I am being careful, you're just being overprotective."

Emma's mouth fell open a little. Mai tugged at her arm again. "What does that mean? It's a muggle term, right?"

Slowly, Emma nodded. It looked like she wasn't the only one who'd noticed Amelia's slip. The Keeper was wincing as a number of gasps and general mutters rose up. She gave her husband an apologetic look. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "But hey, I'm going to start showing soon anyway."

"Emma," urged Mai, shaking her shoulder. "What's she talking about? Not all of us spent half our time in the muggle world."

"I...she's...oh my gods they're going to have a baby!" she gushed.

Professor Kirkland, short fuse already nearly burned out, turned his infamous glower on the remaining students. Emma ducked down, yanking Mai with her. She waited, listening as everyone else fled. Once the stampede of fleeing students died down, she peeked over the low stone wall again.

"You do realize it's only a matter of time before the media finds out?" Professor Kirkland was asking, sounding more tired than angry.

Amelia only shrugged. "They were going to find out anyway. They're nosy, it's their job. I'd rather they didn't find out the ulterior motive behind my move, but it's the price of the whole fame thing. Besides, I figure if we can stay off their radar here, like we have been, it shouldn't be too bad. Of course if you wanted to spend time in America over the summer, I won't complain. Maybe see Maddie in Canada. I'd like to see that bakery she opened, too."

Mai leaned over, whispering softly in her ear, "That's her sister, right? The Canadian witch?"

Emma nodded, not taking her eyes off the two.

Professor Kirkland only gave a weary sigh. "We can't be everywhere at once, love. Certainly not if you should be taking it easy."

"I will be. I'll be chilling on various couches eating whatever the cravings dictate between apparitions, which I'm assuming will be your doing and not mine. I'm lazy as a rule, Artie. If you think I'm giving up the perfect excuse to cool my heels and eat to my heart's content, you're sadly mistaken."

Amelia had pulled her wand back out as she talked, waving it at the marked off area. The cones left the courtyard ground, stacking themselves up and settling at her feet, the football plopping next to them, the red and blue flags disintegrating. The mesh bag floated over to join them, mouth opening so the cones and ball could hurl themselves through it. Smiling, apparently pleased with herself, Amelia picked up the bag, throwing it over one shoulder.

She took the former Slytherin's hand in hers as they started back towards the looming doorway, a bright smile still on her face, whistle still dangling around her neck. "Speaking of which, how do you feel about pizza for supper? We still have peanut butter and baloney at home, right?"

Emma and Mai exchanged looks. Bellow, they could hear Professor Kirkland's resigned sigh. "Yes, love, you bought both just yesterday. I don't suppose we could make a plain pizza as well?"

"Totally. Oh, what about horseradish? Do we have any horseradish?"

As they retreated towards the Gryffindor house, Emma fought the urge to giggle.

Mai waited until they were well away from earshot to ask, "Where did all that patience come from? His short temper is as infamous as his glower."

"I don't know, but tell me that wasn't funny?" asked Emma, the giggles finally breaking free.

"He bit my head off once for asking him to repeat something so I could get my notes right," Mai protested. "She's talking about putting baloney and horseradish on pizza, and he just goes along with it. Why can't he share some of that patience? Or does he enjoy scaring us? That's it, isn't it? He enjoys it."

Emma gave up, surrendering to outright laugher.

Please Review!